


Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

by dizzzylu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cookies, snow, a kid, and Dean. Unrepentant fluff, in other words. That's about all you need to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

**Author's Note:**

> For morganoconner, whose prompts were cinnamon, grace, or snowflakes. I got two out of three. I'm sorry it isn't longer! Thank you to S for the quick read-through ♥

Dean barrels into the house, shouting Sam's name. Castiel is somewhere behind him, quieter, calmer. Fuck calm. When his four year old niece calls at six-thirty in the morning, whispering about some emergency that he only half catches in his sleepy stupor, the last thing Dean is going to be is calm. Hell, he's lucky he has his shoes on the correct feet.

Baseball bat dangling from one hand, Dean calls out again, agitated. "Janie!!" It's still dark in the house, no lights on, dawn barely breaking over the horizon. He hears a low murmur of voices from the back, where the kitchen is, and then thirty-seven pounds of gangly limbs and flannel pajamas is racing toward his legs at roughly the rate of a surface-to-air missile. He stumbles back under the force, one hand falling to cradle the back of Janie’s skull. With her face tucked close to his belly, everything she says is muffled, hot and damp through his shirt. Despite that, he's pretty sure he makes out "mass murderer" and "kitchen" somewhere in there.

His niece is smart, okay? She knows what the hell a mass murderer is.

Janie wriggles in his grasp, her fine, blonde curls slipping through his fingers. He tries to shush her, bat still raised, but she's stubborn and Dean is still a little groggy. Janie manages to tip her head back, pointy chin digging into the waistband of his jeans, and fixes him with a frown. "Mommy's still sleeping, Uncle Dean! You gotta be quiet!" she admonishes in angry whisper. To emphasize her point, she smacks him on the butt with one tiny palm.

Dean blinks. The hand holding the bat drops halfway. "I-- What?"

A second later, Sam pokes his head around the corner. There's a streak of flour high on his cheek and he's smiling. "What's with the bat, Dean?" he asks, grin widening.

He looks at the bat, then back to Sam's smile, and finally to Janie, her smile so bright and perfect; the spitting image of Jess. His arm drops to his side, bat knocking against his boot.

Sam's smile dims and his gaze drops his daughter. "Janie?" She winces at the tone, tightens her grip on Dean's waist.

Dean blinks again, feeling fuzzy-headed, heart still racing. "There was-- she--" Clarity washes over him, then, and he rubs a hand over his face. "There's no emergency, is there?"

Sam shakes his head no at the same time Janie shout-whispers, "Uncle Cas!" and hurtles herself into Castiel, whose arms are spread wide as he crouches at the bottom of the stairs. Jess is behind him, bundled up in a thick robe and fuzzy slippers. Even with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and her face pale, she looks beautiful.

Easing her way around Castiel hefting Janie into his arms, Jess pinches one Janie's bare toes and brushes a kiss to Castiel's cheek, then Dean's. "Morning boys," she says, her voice sugar sweet. Despite knowing her as long as he has, Jess is the only woman who has the power to make Dean blush. He doesn't even notice her taking the bat from him. He's still trying to put two and two together under Janie's fierce glare.

"You woke her up, Uncle Dean," she says around Castiel trying to smooth her hair from his face. Her long legs are wrapped tight around Castiel’s waist, head tucked in the crook of his neck, but her eyes are flinty blue, the color deepened by the shadow of Castiel's chin.

The moment Jess says, "Janie, it's okay, baby," is like a switch being flipped. Janie lights up again, snuggling deeper into Castiel. Jess pats Sam on the belly as she squeezes past him to get to the kitchen.

Dean finally snaps, "Hold it!" and everybody freezes, waiting. "Somebody-- " Dean shoots a dark glare at Janie, who shrinks a little under the weight of it "--Called me at six-freaking-thirty in the morning and told me to get here quick. If there's no emergency, _why_ am I here?"

From behind him, Dean hears Castiel murmur to Janie, "You seem to have cinnamon in your hair." Sam, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets, finally has the good sense to look sheepish, the effect amplified by a chunk of hair hanging in his eyes.

"Mommy's sick," Janie pipes up as Castiel comes to stand next to him. "And we hafta make cookies for Santa. Richie says so." Her eyes dim at the last part, her mouth curving into a tiny frown. She may be a miniature Jess, but she's definitely perfected Sam's hang-dog look, the one that makes Dean want to crawl over broken glass on his hands and knees, set his hair on fire, watch a dozen Julia Roberts movies back-to-back. Whatever it takes to get rid of the pout.

He pushes one large hand through her curls, thumb sweeping over her cheek, and asks, "Who's this Richie punk? Do I need to have a talk with him?" Janie brightens a little, even more when Dean's fingers slip under her flannel top to tickle her side.

"Just a kid at the school, Dean," says Sam, voice low.

Dean turns to him, eyebrows arched, and mouths, 'bully?'

Sam holds his hands up, thumb and forefinger spaced several inches apart.

Dean sighs, turns back to Janie, smiling. "Well, you're in luck kiddo. Your uncle Cas is an ace cookie maker. And I'm the best taste tester around." She leans into him, then, squealing when he hefts her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"But you're s'pose'ta help, Uncle Dean!" Janie says, her hands fisted in his coat for support.

He heads for the coat closet, sets her on the floor, kneels down in front of her, and says, "I _am_ gonna help." He spares Castiel and Sam a glance from over his shoulder, then turns back to Janie and lowers his voice. "What d'you say we let the adults do all the work and we go build us a snowman?"


End file.
